CD - Party Animal
by CalicoDiamond9
Summary: John Winchester is on a hunting trip and seventeen year old Dean decides to sneak out to a party, what could possibly go wrong? Teen!chesters Warning: Language and parental spanking. Don't read if this isn't your thing.
1. Part 1

**Party Animal Part 1**

Seventeen year-old Dean Winchester took a final glance in the mirror, smoothing back his hair, and straightening his brown leather jacket. And damn, he looked good. The muscled teen switched off the bathroom lights and abruptly opened the door to leave.

"Sonuva bitch!" Dean grumbled, finding himself standing only inches from his younger brother, Sam, in the motel hall. The younger boy had his arms crossed over his chest, scrutinizing Dean in an intimidating way, if you considered a slender boy with disheveled hair intimidating. Dean didn't. He brushed past Sam quickly.

"This is a bad idea, Dean." Sam voiced from behind. Dean turned.

"What's a matter, Samantha? You scared for me?" Dean grinned devilishly.

Sam narrowed his eyes at his brother, "No. But if Dad finds out—"

"Which he won't."

"But if he does—" Sam tried again, pensively.

Dean shrugged. "Don't get your panties in a twist. It'll be my problem and I'll deal with it." Dean had no worries, Dad wasn't due back for two more days, he'd even called yesterday to say that, and hell, Dean had gotten away with worse. With that in mind, Dean grabbed the Impala's keys off his temporary bed and went to pass Sam again.

Sam glared up at Dean. "Fine. But I'm watching TV. And if Dad gets home early, I'm telling him."

Dean shrugged nonchalantly again. "Sounds fine to me. Lock the doors, check the salt lines—"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean I know. Seriously."

"_Seriously_." Dean mimicked with a laugh and then he sobered. "I mean it though. If you get hurt or killed because you didn't have your shit together, I'll find you and bust your ass, you readin' me?"

"Sure Dean."

Dean nodded and made for the door, winking at his brother as he closed it behind him. Sammy was already preparing to bolt and lock it. Good kid.

XXXXX

Dean slipped into the crowded house; the scene inside was mesmerizing. The music was a living thing, loud, pulsating and Dean automatically moved with it. He walked with a confident swagger, half a smile dancing on his lips. The dance floor was crowded, and the party had obviously been going on for some time now. Groups of friends crowded together, hollering in drunken voices to the shitty music and drinking from red, plastic cups. Smoke pricked at Dean's eyes and they burned. Damn, this party had everything: drinks, dancing, hot girls, drugs, cigarettes, Dean thought ruefully. If his Dad knew he was here, well, Dean didn't want to think about that.

Dean found himself over in one corner of the house, where a Ping-Pong table had been set up and was the scene of a drinking contest and a lively game of beer pong. Dean would have to hit that later. Right now, he had one goal in mind: Moira Forrester. The chick was hot. Long legs, thick red hair, which Dean suspected to be dyed, but who gave a damn. She was leader of the cheer squad at Fairmount High School and he had found her on the first day. The best thing? Well, the best thing was she liked him too, and the party wouldn't notice two people disappear for a bit.

Then Dean saw her. First the red hair, then the dress. And wow, that was totally not school dress code appropriate. She looked amazing. Moira saw him, giving him a bright grin and a wink, beckoning him over to her friends as they danced. Dean shook his head, is this real life? Then he strode over to her and her friends, who were bouncing up and down sporadically.

"Hey." She shouted to be heard over the music.

Dean grinned, "How're you doin'?"

"Good." She smiled again, turning to dance with him. Dean leaned in close to her ear, carefully brushing a wisp of hair away and Moira paused, eagerly listening.

"Wanna get out of here?" He jerked his thumb towards the stairs of the house. She caught his eye and nodded, placing her hand on his shoulder and then walking her fingers down his torso until she reached his hand, and secured it in her own. And damn that was hotter still. Then Dean let himself be half dragged through the sweaty crush of teens up to the second floor of her house. Good thing he brought a condom.

XXXXX

Sam clicked off the TV jus as the doorknob turned in the motel room. A quick glance at the clock told him it was 1:36 a.m., just over five hours since Dean left. Instead of his wayward brother, a tired looking John Winchester slipped through the door. His eyes narrowed at the TV remote in Sam's hand, but he let his duffle bag fall to the floor as he took off his jacket and strode over to a chair at the small table in the corner of their room, sitting down heavily beside his son.

Sam glanced up at his Dad. Dark circles were under the man's eyes and the beginnings of a bruise were becoming clear at his temple. John reached over and pulled Sam into a quick embrace, ruffling the teen's hair.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?" John fixed his youngest with a knowing smile.

"Yes sir, I just couldn't sleep." Sam explained sheepishly.

"Ah," John surveyed the room, brow furrowing. "Where's Dean?"

Sam didn't say anything, fearing his Dad's reaction and his own involvement in Dean's location.

"Samuel." John growled, his exhaustion forgotten.

Sam looked at his Dad again with a sigh. "He went to a party."

"A party?!" John exclaimed angrily.

"Yes." Sam practically whispered. John took a deep breath, studying the boy.

Finally he spoke again, "Where." It wasn't really a question, more of a command. A command that would be obeyed.

"I-I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" John demanded.

"He didn't tell me! Honest, Dad, I don't know." Sam continued to look at his father anxiously.

John huffed in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. Of course, he should have been queued in when the Impala wasn't the first thing he saw. But why the hell did Dean pick tonight of all nights? "Did he say anything that might help me find him?"

Sam thought about this for a moment. "Oh. He did say something about Moira Forrester, the girl he likes. I think she's the one having the party. I, uh, just don't know where she lives."

John nodded again. "Lets go, Samuel."

"Dad?"

John strode over to his bag, snatching the keys to his truck and walking out the door. Sam followed with trepidation. Please Dean, please be heading back right now…

XXXXX

The old truck pulled up in front of the Forrester's home. The windows were all closed but the music spilled out almost from the cracks in the walls and could be heard from outside, thumping to a loud beat. Happy squeals and routy yells sounded and reverberated throughout the darkened neighborhood.

John cut the engine, letting the growling of the truck come to an end before he climbed out his door, stopping only to grasp it and lean back in. Sam figured Dad was preparing himself for Dean, for the party, but mostly to pretend he wasn't impossibly tired. Sam almost felt bad seeing his father's worry lines so prominent or the damage in his eyes. Sam glanced at his Dad.

"Lock the doors, son." Was all John said before closing the door and walking purposefully up to the house. Sam took a deep breath and looked out the window.

XXXXX

"Wow." Moira laughed from the corner of the room as she shimmed her fine ass into her skinny jeans. She caught Dean's eye and stuck out her tongue as if to say, "bite me."

Dean quirked a smile. "Good, eh?" He pulled on his shirt contentedly.

"Amazing." Moira replied brightly. "But we'd better get back down there. Don't want anyone missing us, now do we?" Dean couldn't help but think that was pretty sexy. She just had this sultry voice, that nice smile, and that devilish gleam in her eyes. Goddamn he loved that chick. If love was just a feeling, that is.

"Aww, they're all too drunk to care." Dean replied, to which she only laughed, grabbing some final pieces of clothing and smoothing the bed cover. Dean watched her move towards him, hugging his taller frame and reaching up for a final kiss. Dean felt her move away and heard the door open and close behind her, not wanting to ruin the memory of her lips on his. Fuck she was hot. Then Dean heard it: a man's voice shouting downstairs. The music began to lessen, the pulse not so all-encompassing, until is stopped altogether and there was silence except to roar of an angry adult. Dean listened closer, immediately recognizing the voice; it was his Dad, John Winchester. Shit.

Dean flew down the hallway, barely catching himself near the bottom of the stairs so as not to be seen. He listened to his father rage.

"Get out of here now. All of you! You're all too damn young to be smoking and drinking. I will call the cops if you aren't out of this house in the next five minutes!"

Loud murmurs of drunken terror spread through the crowd, as the teenagers became a mob of speeding bodies grabbing their belongings, taking final swigs from their cups, and rushing out the door. Some shouted apologies to Moira or compliments about how "rad" the party had been. John growled ominously, probably glaring daggers at the wayward partygoers. Dean crept down one step further, seeing his father and Moira standing in the middle of the floor amidst red cups, loose clothing, shoes, plates, and other miscellaneous remnants of the party. Then Dean caught his Dad's eye. Shit, shit shit. This wasn't good.

**To be continued…**


	2. Part 2

**Party Animal Part 2**

"Boy, get down here now." John ordered in a severe tone. Dean gulped.

Well, Dean was dead, gone, caput. If Dad's look didn't kill him, Dean figured their 'talk' at home would. Damn it. Dean slowly eased himself from the stair, removing his hand from the railing and made his way to where the two figures were standing. Dean stopped a few feet in front of his Dad, not daring to look at the man's face, knowing perfectly well what he would find there.

Instead, he stepped protectively beside Moira who looked more scared than hot at the moment. Although that was kinda hot too, come to think of it… Moira slipped her hand into his own, looking frightened. Dean just hopped his palms weren't as sweaty as hers.

John cleared his throat and proceeded with a forced calm, directing his words to Moira, "Where are your parents? Do they know about this party?"

Moira shook her head fervently. "No sir. I planned it myself. It was just for fun, it wasn't, uh, supposed to turn into…" This, Dean finished for her. Yeah right.

And Dean could tell his Dad believed her about as much as Dean believed Dolly Parton was the best singer of all time. She did have a nice rack though…

"Are they in town?" John asked. Moira nodded slowly, eyes flitting between Dean and his father. John nodded. "Well call them."

Moira looked to Dean for confirmation, but he just stared back. "Now." John demanded. She nodded, quickly running off the get the home phone. And that meant Dean and his Dad could have some one on one time. Shit.

John leaned towards his son. "What the hell were you thinking?" He seethed, barely containing his rage in the quiet tone.

Dean shrugged. "I dunno. I just wanted some fun."

"And this is what you call fun?" John beckoned to the room. Well, now that you mention it, it doesn't look so great, but it was… "Breaking the law. Underage drinking. Drugs. Smoking. You sure went all out, didn't you, Dean?"

Dean panicked just a bit then, "I wasn't doing drugs or any of the other crap, Dad. And I didn't even plan this."

John snorted. "Oh no, that's right. You're delinquent girlfriend did. But you came." Jesus, way to go Dean. Throw your girl under the bus. Why don't you just run her over while you're at it?

Dean looked down sheepishly before meeting his father's gaze.

"Remind me what your duties are when I'm gone." John growled.

"Keep Sammy safe. Stay inside the motel unless absolutely necessary—"

"Oh good." John replied sarcastically. "I was just beginning to think you'd forgotten and that was why you were at this goddamn party!" John almost shouted. Dean cringed. Yep, he was dead.

Just in time, Moira appeared, jogging over to them with the home phone clutched in her hand. The cord was twisting strangely from being pulled, but the hook up couldn't be very far. That meant she'd heard the entire conversation. Just fucking great, Dean thought.

XXXXX

Sam nervously clicked the truck's lock button off and on a third time. He hated waiting. And he especially hated waiting for bad things to happen. His Dad had been in the house a long time now and everyone else had left. Sam had watched the house door open, some kid holding it as dozens of older teenagers had rushed out. Some girls were shoving on their shoes, and other kids were tripping over each other.

Sam had watched as one boy around Dean's age had stumbled out in the midst of everyone else and fallen on the grass to throw up violently. Sam was pretty sure there was nothing left in that guy's stomach and he couldn't help but cringe at the memory. People had gotten into their cars and sped off, while others walked away, talking in hushed voices. Now, the only other car was Dean's Impala.

Sam couldn't help but hope Dean wasn't getting it in there. But he had heard his Dad yell. Sam sighed. I told you so, Dean, didn't I say you'd get caught? Sam realized he hated being right. And he hated Dean for not listening to him.

XXXXX

"Mom?" Moira's voice cracked slightly as she leaned into the phone. Dean and John waited, watching. John crossed his arms and Dean fingered the hem of his jacket in worry.

"Yeah." Moira continued, glancing at the two next to her. "I, uh, I have to tell you something. No—no, Mom, I'm fine. No, I just… I had a party. At the house." She gulped and Dean took a quick look at his Dad. No change. Well this whole situation was seven levels of horse shit bad.

Moira swiped a sweaty hand down her dress. And that was kinda hot, Dean thought. She glanced at him briefly.

She nodded a few times. "No, uh, I think you're supposed to come home. Mr. Winchesters' here." She waited for a moment and Dean could here a muffled voice over the speaker. "No, uh, he's my friend's Dad… I think so. Okay." Moira pulled the phone from her ear and looked to John for some sort of confirmation. What are you expecting, a damn medal?

John merely nodded. "Sit down on the couch. Both of you." Moira took two steps forward and practically side planted in the brown, speckled cushions. Dean made a move to sit beside her when John stopped him.

"Actually, I don't want to two of you together. Dean, sit on this chair." He pointed to the recliner opposite Moira. And Dean shot his Dad a look of pure loathing, to his back, of course. Sonuva bitch. As if the night couldn't get any damn worse, he couldn't even sit next to her. Now she'd hate him.

XXXXX

Dean glanced up quickly as the front screen opened loudly to reveal two adults he figured were Moira's parents. Her Mom looked like an older, more respectfully dressed version of Moira in her black, knee length dress and pearl necklace. She glanced quickly between her daughter and the random teenage boy sitting across from Moira in worry, until she seemingly decided they were both intact. Damn Dean wished someone would look at him like that and not shout at him afterwards…

Following her was a man slightly taller than John, in his suit and holding a purse. He looked pretty hilarious with his wife's light pink bag and his black outfit and dark expression. Hell man, lighten up. Of course, Dean was one to talk, or think, he thought ruefully. He was just trying his best to stay calm. They were in for a load of hurt.

His Dad walked confidently over to them in the door. "I'm sorry we had to meet like this." He said, extending his hand to both parents in turn. "I'm John Winchester and as I understand it, our children go to school together." And other places…

Moira's Dad grasped John's hand firmly to shake it. "Marcus Forrester. This is my wife–"

"Elaine." She said, cutting him off effectively, and taking his Dad's hand. She offered and pained smile. Adults and their pleasantries… can we just get to the yelling/ass beating part already?! Dean sighed quietly and glanced at Moira, she looked as worried as he felt. But she wouldn't look at him. "What happened?" Elaine asked.

John sighed tiredly. "I came looking for Dean," He pointed towards the boy, "And I found him here. There was a party going, some drinking, and smoking. I'm not sure what else."

Elaine gasped. Marcus narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing his daughter. "You held a party with alcohol?"

Moira's eyes began to tear as she hung her head. Her voice became a barely audible whisper, "Yes."

Marcus shook his head I disbelief. "I'm sorry you had to be the one to find them, John. Thank you for getting everyone out of here, I assure you, Moira was brought up better than this." His gaze dropped to her skimpy attire. And he too sighed.

John nodded. "So was my son. Dean." Dad's voice penetrated Dean's thoughts and he quickly stood and walked to his father. As he reached the threesome, he unconsciously leaned away from Moira's furious parents. Her mother's sad look felt like a slap in the face, and her Dad looked like that wasn't all he wanted to do. Dean couldn't help but think Marcus was an ass, it wasn't his fault anyway.

John dropped a heavy hand on Dean's shoulder, not comforting, but firm. And Dean's stomach dropped to his toes.

"Thank you again." Marcus said as he opened the door for them.

"Anytime." John replied, steering his wayward son out the door and into the night. Before they could leave, however, Dean heard a small gasp and running feet. He turned to see Moira by his side. She grabbed his face, standing on her toes, and Dean leaned into the kiss before they were pulled apart. Helluva way to end the night, Dean thought with a smile as he and his Dad headed down the sidewalk to the truck. And shit, he was so dead.

John finally released Dean before they reached the truck, saying gruffly, "Take the Impala and meet us at the motel. You and I have a lot of talking to do."

Dean nodded. Then he noticed Sammy. All of the boy's thirteen years were leaning up against the truck window, asleep. Dean wanted to kick himself, how could he have left his little brother alone? His job was to protect Sammy. And for the first time that night, Dean was truly upset. He walked slowly to the Impala, opening her shiny doors and slipping in onto her leather seat. He carefully started the ignition, looking back to see his Dad waiting in the truck for him to pull out. Why do you gotta be such a dumb fuck, Dean? He backed up and sped off done the street on his way back to their temporary home.

**To be continued…**

**Thank you all so much for the kind words and reviews! I'm glad you liked the first part of the story; hopefully this one lived up to your expectations. Also, sorry to leave you all with another cliffhanger, I promise you'll get to find out what happens to Dean.**


	3. Part 3

**Party Animal Part 3**

**Authors note: Just a head's up: this chapter will mainly be of Moira receiving her 'comeuppance,' since I though it only fair she and Dean both be in trouble. However, Dean will be getting his fair share next time, so stay tuned!**

Marcus turned back into the house after watching the Winchesters leave. And weren't they an odd pair? He didn't remember anyone by that name living in town. As Marcus faced his wrecked living room, he carefully eyed his daughter, the anger from earlier returning. And that dress, dear God that dress. What was he going to do with her? Elaine quietly shut the door behind them and the two ventured over to the couch where Moira sat, hands clasped and head bowed.

"Oh Moira." Was all Elaine could say in her quiet, breathless voice laced with disapproval and sadness.

Moira looked at her parents with tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry. Mom. Dad. I shouldn't have had the party, it was a terrible idea." But Dean wasn't, she thought ruefully. Actually, he was the best idea she'd had since—

"Then why did you?" He father's tone was stern. Moira shrugged. "I need an answer, young lady." Marcus growled.

"Because it was fun, I guess. Everyone has parties, Dad, an-and I just wanted some friends to come, but then it sort of got out of hand…" She trailed off miserably.

"Did we say you could have anyone over?" He asked firmly. Moira shook her head again and Elaine put a restraining hand on her husband's arm. No need to get overworked.

Her father sighed angrily. "I just don't understand. You know what we expect from you. I thought you were responsible, trustworthy—"

"I am!" Moira exclaimed sadly. "I just messed up. Can't you understand that?"

"This was one of hell of a way to mess up, Moira." Marcus thundered. "I can't see how you can go from a straight 'A' student, who never acts out and is well-mannered and polite, to-to, to this!" Moira cringed, her father rarely cursed.

"Maybe you should just sum it up to teenage defiance." She mumbled.

"Excuse me?" Marcus's eyes were flinty and Elaine applied more pressure to his forearm, as if pleading with her husband to be reasonable.

Moira didn't dare look back her father. This was such a bad idea.

"Remind me again when juvenile delinquency became just a part of 'teenage defiance.'" Marcus voiced sarcastically.

"It was just a party!"

"Which you were not allowed to have. And a party where you broke the law."

Moira gasped. "No. I didn't!"

"The last time I checked underage drinking and drugs were illegal. In fact, smoking at your age might be too." Her father's tone was venomous and Moira shivered involuntarily.

She risked a glance at her parents, Marcus's gaze practically spit fire as he leaned towards his teenage daughter and Elaine held back, looking sad and distrustful. Man had she messed up badly….

Moira gulped and found her voice. "I-I didn't drink or eat anything, I promise. And the drugs and smoking – they weren't supposed to do that!"

"But you held the party, so you should have known." He father replied coldly. The tears built in her eyes and Moira did her best to blink them away, the shame of her folly coming on like a cold front. Quick and painful; Moira just hoped the rest of this would be less so.

"What are we going to do with you, Moira?" Her father finally asked, not so much in fury, but in a calm voice with evident disappointment. Moira sniffed, wiping at her eyes in embarrassment.

"I-I don't know."

Her father sighed. "Go up to your room and wait for me. Your mother and I have some things to discuss." She nodded sadly, making her way past them and towards the stairs before she heard: "Moira?"

She turned to see both parents watching her, her mother in particular waiting for spell before continuing. "Get rid of that dress."

XXXXX

Dean's fingers drummed nervously in time to AC/DC's track. There was just something calming about music so loud you couldn't think. And anyway, it kinda fit: dark night, deep beat. It just felt too damn short. Dean glanced in his rearview mirror, there was Dad and Sammy coming after him and Dean gulped. Think about the song, man. Dean realized that this was exactly how he had wanted the night to go; instead his was a mile deep in fucking horseshit. Hopefully Moira was faring better, he'd have to ask her Monday at school, if he lived that long.

Dean saw the motel and drove towards the old building anxiously. For the first time in a while he wasn't enjoying his music very much. It just all seemed like too damn much. And anyway, people need power songs before they face their fears, not songs about sex. Not that songs about sex were bad. Dean just couldn't think about that right now. Come to think of it, hoped that his dad didn't know about him and Moira, you know, doing 'it', that would be so many new kinds of hell. Dean shuddered.

The Impala smoothly glided into the back motel parking lot and Dean steered her into a parking space. They sure needed some fucking lighting back here, a person could get lost in the damn darkness trying to find the door. Dad's truck pulled up a few spaces down and Dean watched his father climb out, walking over to carry Sammy out and up to their room. Dean quickly hopped out, casting a final glance at the Impala. It was probably the last time he'd drive her in a while. Hang in there, Baby, Dean thought, and pray for me, good Lord, pray for me.

XXXXX

Moira sat quietly on her bed, shifting once again between sitting, standing, and generally being restless. She hated waiting, she wondered if Dean did too. Of course, waiting wasn't all bad, but this kind was. She felt a heavy pit in her stomach and the dryness on her tongue as she stayed patiently, or as much so as possible, ready for the verdict. And there was no way her parents would be happy. Crap.

Finally, heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs and soft voices carried down the hall. If Moira were a dog, her ears would have sticking straight up in anticipation as she moved forward. The doorknob turned to reveal her Dad, looking somber as ever, followed by her Mom. Elaine slipped past her husband to sit down next to their daughter while Marcus pulled out the desk chair. More than ever Moira realized how disappointed they were. And more than ever she hated herself for it.

Then her mother spoke: "We want to you to understand Moira. What you did was not okay_"

"It was deplorable. And it'd better never happen again, are we clear?" Marcus interrupted. Moira nodded quickly as her mother fixed him with an angry stare as if to say, 'let me finish!'

"And we've decided you father will punish you." And so….?

"I haven't spanked you since you were four years old—" Marcus began.

"What?!" Moira was shocked at her voice and how she sounded. She felt so immature squeaking in indignance and worry at this pronouncement. They couldn't be serious! She looked between her parents. They were serious. Moira leapt from her place, flying towards the door in her pajamas, not really sure where she was going. Just the hell outta here… Dean probably wouldn't have run scared like that.

She scrambled to open the door, sweaty palms fumbling with the fake brass until she made her way into the hallway. She reached for the railing and a firm hand snatched her from behind, dragging her back into the bedroom. Moira struggled before falling over a strong set of knees, doing her best to keep from face planting on the floor. Then smack! Moira let out an angry squeak once again, face burning in shame. And boy had that hurt.

Again the hand descended leaving a fiery trail prickling at her backside. Then two more over that one. She gasped. Her father continued, setting a painful rhythm and Moira pulled one hand from the floor to block the onslaught. Without even pausing, her Dad caught her wrist and held it to the small of her back. For someone who hadn't spanked anyone for thirteen years, he was pretty darn good. A particularly hard swat caught Moira off guard, ripping her unpleasantly from her thoughts and she squawked.

The pain began to build, a stinging wall crawling across her skin and she squirmed hoping for a reprieve. Swat, swat, swat. Moira felt tears prick her eyes and she sniffed loudly, trying to keep quiet. But this wasn't missed by her father, and Marcus tilted her forwards to attack the tender area where thigh met butt. That's when she broke. Moira's silent concentration turned to sobbing as the pain became too much.

Marcus placed another five swats on her under curve before returning to the crest of her buttocks, leaving her gasping and breath hitching. Swat. Swat.

"Daaad!" Moira shrieked. "Stop. Please stop. 'M soorreee!" She wailed loudly, letting the tears fall freely as she struggled. But her father was relentless and finally, Moira sobbed brokenly over his knee, a complete mess and she felt all of four years old. Marcus pulled his daughter up, carefully resting her on his knee before pulling her into a tight hug. And Moira sobbed into his shoulder, clinging to him in desperate need of comfort. That was worse than she remembered….

XXXXX

Dean climbed the back stairs leading to their room, carefully eyeing the back of his Dad's jacket and the dangling legs and hands which were all he could see of Sammy. The kid was out, not even like a light, he was in some magic world or something shitty like that where people go when they are gone. Too far gone. Dean was pretty sure Sammy'd been drooling. Oh man, wait 'till he told the little punk!

John reached the door first, struggling to pull the room key out of his pocket while holding the limp boy in his arms. Dean quickly and wordlessly grabbed the key from his father and opened the door. His Dad nodded. Hell, Dean was pretty sure that was the first thing he'd done right today. Whoopie-fucking-doo. The lights were switched on and his Dad laid Sammy on one of the motel beds, pulling his shoes off and settling him under the covers. What a lucky little punk. Dean wished he could just fall into bed now; he didn't even need Moira there. He just needed some damn sleep.

John sighed loudly, turning to his eldest with a weary gaze. Dean noticed for the first time how sad the man looked, all dopey and tired. Well damn.

"Get to bed." John said in a hushed voice, glancing at the sleeping boy across from them. "We'll talk about this in the morning." Right, talk. Dean barely contained a snort, what a load of shit.

**TBC**

**Thank you, thank you, thank you all so much for the reviews, favorites, and alerts you put on this story! It's been exciting to write, but even more so knowing all of you have enjoyed it!**


	4. Part 4

**Party Animal Part 4**

"Psst!"

Dean growled, the sleep drifting off of him like a wave pulling back from the beach. The beach? Where the hell was he coming up with these dumb ass ideas? So not cool, man. He groaned audibly, cracking one eye open to see Sammy smiling in his face. And man, the kid needed to be introduced to some mouthwash…

Dean smacked at his younger brother. "G'way." Sam just pushed back, remaining in place and scrutinizing the older teen. And Dean, well Dean was getting pissed. "I said move." He growled. Sam shrugged, falling back on his heels beside the bed. Now he looked even more shrimpy and Dean was caught between wanting to throttle him and toss him on the bed. Eh, it'd have to wait.

Dean wiped the sleep from his eyes, glaring at his brother again. "This sucks balls, man." He groaned, Sam look ready to laugh and Dean fixed him with an angry stare. "And wipe that shit-eating grin off your face, you look like a retard."

Sammy didn't move and Dean pushed himself up from the bed with a groan. It was too damn early to be awake, Dean didn't care what time it was. "Where's Dad?" He slurred, finding it odd that their father wasn't in the small room. Unless the old man was hiding in the bathroom. Right.

Sammy shrugged, as he stood, "Went to grab us some breakfast. He said to get you up."

Why in the hell….? Oh, last night. Dean felt like he'd been hit by a train, or maybe a hangover, both of which he'd had similar experiences to. The party, Moira, the _talk_, damn it. Did he mention it was too early? 'Cuz it was. Dean stood slowly, allowing the blood to rush to his head and the dizziness to dissipate before trusting himself to walk. Dude, this was fucking stupid, he was so not ready for any of this. Dean grabbed a shirt and pair of jeans from his duffle bag, sniffing them, eh, good enough.

XXXXX

Dean shuffled out of the bathroom carefully, noticing Sammy doing his homework at the table in the corner. And Dad wasn't back yet. He realized it had been somewhere around this time last night when he walked out to find the kid mad at him. Then he had left for the party. Not much was different, okay, sure it was day and all, but he looked just about the same. Except he didn't feel so damn great. The door opened and Dean tensed, instead he found his Dad holding a paper bag and his keys.

John didn't say anything, he only let the door close, marching over to the beds and dumping the bag down, allowing some ketchup to fall out. The two boys were on the meal like vultures, John noticed fondly. They didn't speak during the meal, which was pretty common. Winchesters just didn't work that way. Food was a necessity and by the looks on his son's faces, wonderful. Dean in particular wolfed down his breakfast; of course, the kid was a bottomless pit, so food didn't need to have any real quality for him to enjoy it, but still. John also expected he hadn't eaten much the night before. So, it was no surprise when Dean was the first to set his wrapping down, allowing a loud belch to erupt. John gave him a disapproving look as if to say, 'don't push you're luck, kid.' But in the end, he only shook his head and finished the last bites of his sandwich. Damn kid….

Dean grinned, balling up the paper and tossing it deftly into the trashcan. It hit the bottom with a soft smack and Dean raised his hands triumphantly. "Uh, NBA right here." He pointed down at himself, a cocky grin plastered on his young face. Sammy just rolled his eyes.

"Yeah great, Dean. Real amazing." John snorted.

"Alright boys." John growled lightly, checking between the two. Dean just looked at him innocently while Sam returned to his meal.

After a moment, John cleared his throat. Better get all this over with. "Sammy?" The blonde head looked up quickly, mouth full meat and sauce dripping down the corner of his lips. Damn kid… "Your brother and I have something to discuss. Wait in the bathroom, okay, Sport?"

Sam nodded slowly, his gaze flitting between his older brother and Dad, watching Dean's smile slowly slide off his face. Guess they hadn't talked yet, huh? He hated it when Dean looked like that, all sad and even sorta defeated. He was supposed to be the funny idiot of the family, never worried or anything. But Sam knew better, in real life, no one could go around like that. Anyone who said they could was kidding themselves, or lying. So Sam grabbed his sandwich, or what was left of it, and high tailed it to the bathroom, closing the door loudly behind him.

XXXXX

As soon as the door closed, father and son made eye contact. John realized for the hundredth time how different his sons were. Dean sat a few feet away from him, shoulders squared and face stoic as if ready to take in the world. Or a Winchester beat down. Had Sammy been his place, well, John could only guess the pleading, shrinking back in his seat, and the guilt spelled out on the boy's young features. Not Dean though, it was like he thought he was right in everything he did. Damn teenagers and their mule headed wills. It was too damn early to do this…

John leaned forward to rest his hands on his knees, "So, Dean," He began calmly, "Let's start from the beginning."

Dean looked at his father in shock. No lecture? No yelling or swearing? It was like he didn't even know the man. Well shit, there went his composure.

"Uh, the beginning…sir?" Better add that in, considering everything and all.

"Yes."

Dean quirked an eyebrow at his father, not disrespectful, mind you. No, that would be one helluva bad idea. Just interested. This was so damn weird. Then he shrugged, leaning back in his chair.

"Well, Moira invited me, 'bout Tuesday, probably. She was convincing, said all this crap about it starting at six, and who starts a party then?" He checked to see if his Dad was following. Okay, good stuff. John closed his eyes momentarily, the kid sure had some balls to act like that...

"Dean." He growled. The teen quickly eyed his father, stopping to clamp his jaw shut. "I want to know about the party. And I want to know pretty damn soon unless you want to tell me the rest on a sore ass."

Dean nodded. "Well I got there at eight, found Moira, and we, uh, we danced some." He ended lamely.

John snorted. "You danced?" Oh great job, Dean, he thought to himself, that was real believable.

"Yes sir. Moira likes to dance, so you know, I danced."

His Dad didn't look liked he believed him, but he only sighed in frustration. "Alright. What did you have to eat? Did you drink anything?

"No sir."

"So you're telling me that you spent five hours dancing with some girl?!" John inquired harshly.

"She's not just 'some girl,' Dad."

"Really?" John asked angrily. Dean blinked back his urge to cringe. "Because we just got into this damn town four days ago, so unless you'd been talking to this girl before, you just met her. So don't act like you two are best pals, buddy, because I've had just about enough of the lies. It ends now."

"I'm not lying—"

"What were you doing upstairs."

Dean paled. Boy had he hoped his Dad hadn't caught that. Shit, shit, and double shit. "Uh… upstairs, Dad?"

John glowered at his son, allowing his voice to drop into a deathly calm. But Dean knew better than to think his Dad was back to normal. Oh no, when John Winchester talked in that 'anger barely suppressed in a whisper' voice, you were dead. "When I came in, Moira had come down the stairs and when everyone left, you came down as well."

Dean gulped, wiping his hands down his pant legs. "Talking."

John huffed loudly, allowing his son's posture and reaction to register. He turned back and smacked his hand down hard onto the table, causing the seventeen year old to jump in his seat, casting worried glances at his father.

"Dean if you are leaving something out, so help me, boy…"

"Wehadsex." Dean replied quietly.

John snorted. "Need help talking, son?"

"No sir." Dean replied with a shake of his head. Godamn it why did he always do this? "I just… we, uh, we had sex."

If John had been angry before, now he was incensed. His eyes blazed and Dean was sure this was it. His Dad was going to kill him, or his ass, or both. Fuck it all. He sorta deserved it, but it didn't mean he had to like it.

"You abandoned your brother and disobeyed me to go screwing with some girl for five hours?!" He roared. Now, Dean shrunk back in his chair. He watched the muscles in his dad's jaws clench and go taught while he gripped his knees, knuckles whitening. Just like my lilywhite ass, which won't be white much longer, he thought ruefully.

XXXXX

Sam kicked the trashcan under the sink a final time, a deep sigh escaping his lips. Then he heard his Dad yell and he jumped. Man, Dad was mad. Didn't I tell you, Dean? Dad always catches you and then he always whips your butt. Sam sighed again, his stomach feeling queasy. Maybe finishing that breakfast burrito so wasn't such a good idea. But Sam knew he couldn't have eaten it while listening to the showdown going on outside the bathroom. It almost felt wrong, eating while your brother got spanked; kind of like you were listening to some show on the radio. And that was just sick.

XXXXX

"We did talk for a while, ya know, before…" Dean mentioned quietly.

"And that somehow redeems you?!" John shouted again.

Dean shrugged. Looking back, he didn't know why in the hell he did it and he would have liked to have kicked himself for it. But Dean shrugged and in one quick motion, John was out of his chair. He grabbed the wayward teen by his shirt collar and dragged him to the nearest bed. Well shit. John sat down heavily as he deftly tossed Dean over his knee, raising his hand to swat the upturned backside displayed before him. Then he stopped, breath huffing in anger.

"Stand up."

Dean pushed himself off his Dad's lap in a hurry. Sure thing, Dad, anything to get out of that fu—

"Drop your jeans." John commanded. Never mind, this was not a relief. It was, in fact, bad, very, very bad. Dean gulped, fumbling with the buttons on his pants before dragging them down. And without warning, he was once again pulled unceremoniously over his father's hard knees. Then came a swat and whew, it took Dean's breath away. Not in a good way either. Just fucking great.

John let the anger flow through his arm, covering his son's backside in searing swats sure to leave him squirming. But for now, Dean was determined to remain calm. He tucked his head in his arms, gritting his teeth as the intense fire building up in his ass. John continued to spank, going left to right, top to bottom in painful regularity and Dean bit down hard on his knuckles. It felt like an eternity of the damn punishment until John titled the stoic teen forward, targeting his sit spots and Dean almost gasped. Almost. That hurt like hell. Now Dean decided that squirming away wasn't giving in, just self-preservation.

John felt the boy begin the move, legs twisting and arms pushing up. He pressed down harder on Dean's back, keeping the teen in place as he continued the assault on the boy's ass. But Dean was determined not to cry out, although he felt pretty damn close to that. Keep it together, man. Then it stopped. Wait, it stopped? John quickly pulled Dean up by his arm to stand in front of him. This was too good to be true, John Winchester stopping an ass whipping like that? Well, Dean felt pretty damn proud of himself. His ass hurt like the dickens, but he hadn't yelled or anything.

Then John spoke: "Go get me the paddle." Shitfire.

**TBC**

**Well, I admit it, that was mean. This chapter was just running too long. I guess Dean'll have to wait for a bit longer, so stick with me here:) Anyway, I just wanted to thank you all again for your support of this story, it means so much to me!**


	5. Part 5

**Party Animal Part 5**

Dean walked over to his father's duffle bag, well, waddled was more accurate, but that wasn't so cool sounding. And anyway, it wasn't his fault; between the hellish sting in his ass and the damn jeans around his ankles he didn't really have a choice. But there had been no way he was bending over in front of his Dad to pull them off. No freakin' way. He found the stupid thing quickly. The paddle was near the top, because it was fairly lightweight, but man it packed a wicked sting. And Dean hated it with a passion. And he hated himself even more for actually going to the party in the first place.

John took the feared implement, looking once again at his eldest and then back at his lap. Dean groaned internally, of sure, make the guy who's getting his ass handed to him bend over. But he did. And as Dean squirmed to find a comfortable position over his Dad's knee, he waited with baited breath. Dad pressed his hand onto his son's back once again, to hold him in place and let his hand drop.

SMACK! Dean's muscles went tense as the paddle landed. SMACK! Shit, this whole silent, nothing can hurt me thing was going out the window… But Dean clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. Damn that hurt. SMACK!

"Fuck!"

SMACK! SMACK! Dad let two powerful swats land on Dean's already stinging ass, which almost made it vibrate with the force. Not a good idea. Note to self, don't swear out loud. SMACK! SMACK! But the swats kept coming and Dean felt tears prick at his eyes. Damn it, no. SMACK! Dean gasped, moving his legs to the side to find some relief. John only continued to lay into the teenager, determined to teach the boy a lesson.

SMACK! SMACK! Now Dean found his voice. "Mmmmph. Ow, Dad! Dad… stop. Ow!"

John slowed his pace only slightly so Dean could here him. SMACK! "Why are you here, Dean?" Because you fucking put me here, why else? But Dean only grunted in response. SMACK!

"Ahhow. I, uh, I ow went to a party, and left Sammy, and ow, Dad! I had sex, 'n stuff. It wasn't good!" Dean wailed. John nodded resolutely, not that Dean was paying attention. Instead, and sob caught in his throat. SMACK! "'M sorry!" Then Dean's attempts at keeping calm ended and he let the tears flow. John heard this and finished with three searing swats to Dean's under curve, sure to remind of him of this every time he sat down. And Dean found himself snotty and sobbing over his Dad's knee as the old man rubbed comforting circles in his back.

After a few minutes, Dean's crying slowed and John pulled the repentant boy up to sit on his knee. Well, this was some improvement, Dean thought; at least he wasn't having his ass roasted anymore… he sniffed quietly. And his Dad pulled him into a hug. Dean clutched at his father; he needed this. John smiled, the only time Dean wanted to hug, or really to be touched, for that matter, was after getting his ass kicked. Figures.

"That was stupid." Dean mumbled into his Dad's shirt.

John snorted. "Yeah, it was. Let's not have this discussion again, son." John said, feeling Dean nod in his shoulder.

"Yes sir. I mean, no sir. We won't." Dean replied, wiping his eyes again and standing up. Then he laughed, his default cocky grin falling back into place. "I don't think my ass could take anymore."

John rolled his eyes at the boy. "Alright, smart ass."

Dean smiled harder, looking down at the jeans pooled on the floor. Apparently his squirming was worse than he knew, since they weren't on him anymore. And shit, those pants were going to have to go back on. Dean slowed eased them over his legs, wincing as they touched his scorched ass. This majorly sucked.

XXXXX

Sam stood by the bathroom door, as the quiet in the other room continued, waiting for Dean or his Dad to open the door and proclaim the discussion ended. Then it did. And it was Dean. Sam looked his brother over. Dean was walking a little stiff, with red, puffy eyes and some tear streaks on his face, but other than that, the older teen looked as confident as ever. Sam lunged for his brother, circling Dean's waist in a tight hug and burying himself in Dean's scent, musty, sweaty Dean. Dean grinned, squeezing the younger boy's shoulder. Damn he loved the kid, not that he'd ever say that to anyone, but still He finally pulled the clinging boy off of himself, looking down.

"'M'kay, Samantha, enough chick flicks moments, I'm alive and all." Sam laughed, looking up at Dean again, pure adoration written on his face. He loved Dean, even when he was a dick.

"Jerk." He replied.

"Bitch." Dean drawled fondly. The two walked out of the small bathroom to find their father reading a newspaper, he looked up briefly, a small smile on his face. They were getting so grown up, but not too grown up. His boys.

XXXXX

Dean stared at his desk pensively. Never before had he realized how unforgiving the wood was or how long homeroom was going to be. Damn it, this was the worst fucking punishment ever. Granted, his Dad had kicked his ass on Saturday and it was Monday, but still. Do you expect a man to be recovered it that short of a time? Dean groaned inwardly. Everyone else was talking loudly, sitting at, on, or around their desks in their little groups. Dean didn't really fit in, and for once, he was glad he wasn't the center of attention. That would be pretty damn embarrassing…

Then he saw Moira and the chair was forgotten. Her hair was up in a sassy ponytail, which swung as she walked into class. She grinned at Dean, finding her way to the desk in front of him casually. Dean watched her glance at the desk briefly before setting her backpack down and coming to a stop beside him. Dean grinned.

"How's it with you, beautiful?" Moira blushed.

"Just fine." She replied with another winning smile. "That was probably the worst party ever, huh?" Dean laughed, shaking his head.

"'Naw. It was the best, I just wish it had lasted longer." He winked at her and Moira rolled her eyes.

"You can keep wishing, Winchester." She smiled, turning back to her own desk. Dean shook his head, she was so many kinds of amazing, Then, Ms. Tennies walked in the brusquely, setting her books down loudly before beginning a quick role call. Dean sighed quietly at the desk, fucking stupid idea. But man, he'd never do that again, or at least be better about not getting caught… He slowly eased himself into his seat, without so much as a grimace and positioned himself so as little weight as possible was on his ass. He looked at Moira who too moved to find a comfortable position.

Dean couldn't help but notice that unlike him, she kept moving with slight squirms of discomfort. Huh, that was strange. Maybe… no, it couldn't be. But as Moira continued to move and their teacher droned on in her dull monotone, Dean couldn't help but wonder. In fact, if Dean didn't know any better, he'd say she'd been whipped same as him. No, there was no way…

**End.**

**Well, let me know what you all thought; hopefully it was enjoyable. Again, it has been so exciting to see all of you reviewing, favoriting, following, and generally supporting my writing. Thank you! There will be more stories to come.**


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